#blackwater lure

[naffeclipse]

What if Eclipse from AP was a naga? And this took place in the deep jungle of the amazon, where photographer y/n is trying to take pictures of the wildlife?

I'm vibrating at the speed of sound over this ask while also nudging my naga au

Naga Eclipse from AP would have the tail of a Green Anaconda, with an olive green scaly color dotted with black, framed by burning-like flares of orange along the length of his slithery body. He's also decorated with orange-yellow striping on either side of his long, slipper form. His upper half is scaley with a lithe deadliness to his musculature and decorated by frills surrounding his head with brighter orange-yellow colors, almost hypnotic in their gradient hues. One eye is deep emerald green, and one is midnight blue.

Lucky you—you're out on a once-in-a-lifetime expedition to explore a jungle closed off to the public, funded by Fazco, and occupied by two researchers who will be your bunkmates for the next few weeks. You're itching to take photos of the large river, including swamps, marshes and streams, and whatever wildlife is out there.

The few locals you did meet before you left to hike the rest of the way to what would be your new, isolated home warned you of a dangerous snake—a large, mythical beast. You take note of the local folklore. You understand the truth is hidden in there somewhere, and you are well aware of the dangers and diseases you could be met with in such a harsh environment, but you're determined.

It doesn't take long for you to feel eyes watching you when you first venture out by yourself. You take beautiful pictures of freshwater fish, big and beautiful, unlike any you have ever seen. Of course, you have hundreds of snapshots of the local flora, the trees, the floating meadows, the thick vines that drape each branch and hang thickly about the ground. You almost forget that you eerily don't feel alone.

But you swear something moves in the water—the ripples stop as soon as you look. The stillness is suddenly stiff, lifeless. Even the birds have stopped chirping.

You lower your camera and carefully put it away. A trickle of fear slips into your heart. You turn away from the river's edge only to be met by a low hiss and a creature, unlike anything you witnessed in your travels, spooling itself neatly out of the water, blocking your path to the base. An incredible creature with long arms and a great, serpentine tail that seems to stretch for yards and yards. You can hardly breathe in his presence—he's otherworldly with his frills and scales and fangs.

His eyes contain a mesmerizing shine as if staring into a fire as it burns or watching the ocean as it laps up against the beach, drawing your attention, demanding you don't look away. You couldn't anyway. Half-frozen, you struggle to keep from collapsing. He beckons with a sharp talon. He hisses softly for you to come closer, mouse. He wants to see you. You try to beg no without revealing how terribly you tremble. He doesn't let you go. He insists. His eyes flash with an allure. You almost step close when he murmurs that you need to be good.

But then your sense of survival kicks adrenaline into your heart, and you turn to run—

He strikes faster than your eyes can follow. Two loops of his green and orange tail surrounded you in an instant. You're dragged to the ground, your arms pinned under his mass, and the back of your head cradled by his large palm as powerful muscles squeeze you in the slightest—a gentle rebuke for thinking you could get away. You're hyper-aware of the terrifying bulk of muscles as you lie trapped in his coils. One strong twist and your eyes could pop out of your skull, and every bone protecting your heart and lungs would crumble to shards. You gasp. An urge to kick your legs and struggle erupts in your panic; a sinking feeling tells you it would only make things worse.

He coos over you, hissing and humming in an ancient song of the jungle you have no name for. When you whimper, he shushes you and strokes your cheek. He tells you how lovely you'll be. When you talk back to him, somehow finding your tongue amid your horror, you find out his name. Eclipse. He moves you more upright, resting you on his tail so you're not petrified by how vulnerable you feel lying down, but he never loosens his scaly bindings. He hovers over you. You gaze into his stunning frills of yellow-orange and wonder how a being like him came to exist. He studies you as you study him. He grins at how you shiver when he traces your collarbone with a sharp fingertip.

You remind yourself that you can still breathe. He hasn't crushed you—yet—but you don't like how wide his smile is. Sometimes, his jaw stretches a little too long as if dislocating from his skull, ready to devour you. His eyes gleam with a ravenousness as scales twist around you, holding you close enough to smell the slick green water he had been in and deep musk.

He tells you that he'll see you again very soon—away from other humans, lest you bring him a fine gift for a meal. You can only flex your fingers, silently pleading in your heart that he won't unhook his jaw and eat you alive.

Then, he unravels himself from your limbs. But before he lets you go entirely, he leans in close, his serpentine tongue flickering close to your neck and by your hair, tasting the air around you as you muster all your strength to not scream. He inhales deeply, pleased, before he murmurs, "Sweet mouse. You are mine. Say it."

You don't understand, but you echo his command, and when he taps your chin once in what might have been a loving gesture, you force your jelly legs to solidify before you run and run, all the way back to base. You slam the door to your room behind you. You touch your ribs, your arms, still caught in the heavy sensation of his loops as if he were upon you right now.

The stories are true—there is a giant snake in this jungle, and he wants you. You're afraid to discover if Eclipse's intrigue with you is only an exotic way to satisfy his hunger.

#i'm not normal about nagas #this is great because in the naga au with sun and moon #eclipse isn't a naga so this gives me my fix of naga eclipse #just augh #love these monsters #anyways he's gonna squeeze you and love you and you are just so lucky he finds you adorable he could just eat you up (not really but ya kno #he has plans for lovely little you #he's going to show you so many cool creatures like pink river dolphins and big big BIG floating meadows and the best brightest birds! #he's also gonna try to get you to eat vermits and promise that he'll protect you when you get sluggish after eating #and you have to explain that your metabolism is very different from his but then you get to see him sluggish and sleepy after he eats #(whoops that means extra long cuddles for you and boy does he like to take long naps and wrap you up tight so you don't go anywhere) #apex polarity #<<< just tagging for the same characterization of Orclipse and photographer y/n #but i am calling this: #blackwater lure #naga!eclipse #photographer!reader #naff writing #the serpent den

[amymaleneart]

Created BL!Eclipse from @naffeclipse. I'm loving all the aus of the recently named "Snake Den". I already sent it to her as an ask but I'm so proud of it I just have to post on my page.

Loving the faces! It took me forever to get that smile just right! It was worth the pain.

#naga au #dca fandom #blackwater lure #naga!eclipse #scaled dca #photographer!reader #naffeclipse #the serpent den #blackwater lure fanart #small artist #fnaf eclipse

[lazypapers]

8 years is a long time to think about vengeance. It's pretty clear, Dutch had used the Blackwater money to lure Micah and he had always planned to kill him somehow. Whether it was to avenge Arthur, but I lean more with him blaming Micah for the destruction of his family (though really it was more on Dutch's failure to overcome his ego, insanity, and denial). I really think Arthur was able to salvage some tiny bit of the old Dutch in his final moments. Once Dutch finally achieved in taking down Micah, he completely lost it because nothing was really holding him back any longer. This led to his demise in RDR 1.

Surprisingly he didn't even take the Blackwater money, cause I think he was disgusted by it (seeing that was the beginning of the end). Or he left it for John, because he at least owed him that and I think it was to honor Arthur's wish of making sure John and his family were taken care of.

#rdr2 #my art #fanart #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #micah bell #van der linde gang #american venom #rdr2 epilogue #red dead redemption #comic

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

One thing I’ve grown to appreciate about the “Red Dead Redemption” series now that I’m older is that you can tell Rockstar approached this project as an anti-western. It lures you in with the promise of Wild West, yeehaw goodness, but when you actually play the games, you get hit with the brutal reality of this world.

Examples of what I mean:

1) The Mexican Revolution arc isn’t romanticized. At first, you think it’s a simple tale of the evil fascist government fighting against the heroic rebellion. But then you meet the rebel leader and he turns out to be just as bad as the government. It’s a true “both sides are in the wrong” situation and, unfortunately, the ones who truly suffer are the peasants (such as Luisa Fortuna).

2) Frontier life isn’t just shooting and action. It was also watching over animals, building farms and ranches, and trading with towns. The games really make you feel the monotony of doing chores and yard work, especially when John was in his Jim Milton phase.

3) Outlaw life isn’t romanticized either. Although you start off as a happy family, it eventually devolved into backstabbing, despair, and self-destruction. Even before then, your group aren’t the greatest of people, especially with the whole robbing people at gunpoint and shooting up towns.

4) Good guys don’t always get a happy ending. Also, every action has a consequence. John Marston had to learn that the hard way.

5) The racism. I feel like a lot of Western-themed media tries to skirt around this issue, or even avoid the topic (such as the 2016 remake of Magnificent Seven, which had a diverse group of fighters). Red Dead doesn’t pull back its punches. You have the Ivy League professor who treated Native Americans as subjects for his racist research. Abraham Reyes straight up calls Chinese people an inferior race. Then there’s the Blackwater short film playfully talking about the massacre of Native American tribes.

6) Along the same lines as point 5, the sexism. For example, there was the propaganda short film about opposing the women’s suffrage movement. And, of course, Sadie Adler not wanting to be relegated to cooking for the group since she can shoot.

7) This is more for RDR2. You actually have to pay attention to the maintenance of the horses and the guns. I’ve never seen this in a Wild West movie/TV show, and yet it’s integral to someone whose life revolves around horseback riding and shooting people!

8) Not skirting around the issue of disease, especially when healthcare wasn’t as advanced as it is nowadays. You can see that especially with Arthur and Abigail.

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #red dead fandom #red dead redemption #rdr2 #rdr #john marston #arthur morgan #luisa fortuna #jim milton #abigail marston #sadie adler #rockstar games #wild west #gaming #rdr2 arthur #rdr john #red dead redemption community #gaming post #abigail roberts #van der linde gang

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 26

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 26: So it begins

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was trapped in a chair. Something was clamped around my head and kept it firmly tied to the back of the chair. My arms and legs were completely immobile, not a centimeter of space left. I could feel Alastor's panic. I let out a scream as I pulled hard against the chair, completely helpless.

Burning pain ran along the sides of my head. I screamed louder, harder, and fought tooth and nail for my magic just barely out of reach.

Next thing I know I'm running through the forest. I was in my Dragon form, my large claws clearly in view as I jumped across streams and weaved through the trees. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

I came to a clearing and stopped. Standing across was a man in all white. He spread his huge bird-like wings and pointed a finger at me. A moment later I was on my side, shaking from pain, as he stood over me with clenched fists.

He lifted one fist and brought it down on my face.

My head jerked back and I gasped. Alastor flinched awake, eyes snapping open and scanning the room for danger. My own eyes remained locked on him as wide as they could go. I couldn't take a deep breath.

"Another nightmare my dear?" he asked sweetly, hand coming up to cup my face. I couldn't move. He noticed and pushed his mind further into mine than usual. He lowered my heart rate and loosened my shoulders. He moved down my body until the tip of my tail was no longer tense.

"A vision," I breathed. "Something was wrong. I was trapped and something was happening to you."

"I won't let anything happen to either of us, my darling." That was what he always said after my nightmares.

"But what if something does happen?" I pressed.

"Darling," his tone was firm, "we don't know when these events will occur or if they can even be considered visions. You have yet to discern between a vision and dream. This could be your fear creating nightmares."

I let out a short, terse sigh and sat up. I couldn't see but I knew he was rolling his eyes and sitting up as I slipped out of bed.

"Darling--"

"I don't appreciate you discounting me like that. Six surface Overlords are gone, Blackwater is creating an empire through word of mouth, and we barely survived getting away from him last time. How are you not concerned?" I faced him with my arms extended in exaggeration.

"Last time he lured us into a trap." He stood up and ran a hand through his messy hair. If I wasn't so upset I might've considered it attractive. "He is nothing against me in a full scale battle. He cannot harm you or this Haven while I am here." He crossed the room to place a gentle hand on my cheek. My tail came around to wrap on his ankle. "Let me worry about this, darling."

I was quiet. There were a lot of things I wanted to say to him. I wasn't some useless weak mage, not anymore. My magic was getting better with every day and I was doing a lot in the Haven to get it more fortified and help with morale. And why wasn't he showing even just the slightest bit of concern? He could've died last time we ran into Blackwater. He was building an army as we spoke. Alastor was good but even he could be overrun if there were enough of them, especially if they had Overlord magic.

Alastor brought his other hand up to hold my face in both hands. He tried to catch my eyes but I forced my head down. He moved his hands to my shoulders and gently squeezed them, trying in every way to get me to look at him without forcing it. I kept our minds separate but allowed him to press along my shields like he usually did.

He succumbed to hugging me instead. I pressed my cheek into his chest while his arms folded over my shoulders and behind my head. I took a long, slow deep breath of his cedar wood scent. I had the urge to cry. I knew it wasn't from just this one nightmare. I've been having them steadily now and each time he told me they were nightmares, nothing more. He could help sooth the nightmares but that didn't prevent the effect it had on me during the day. It was getting overwhelming.

I rubbed my face on his soft black long sleeve. He brought a hand up to my head and ran his claws lightly along my scalp. I let out a hum of satisfaction, the muscles in my arms loosening around his waist. He pushed further on my shields and I finally let him in, melting our minds together. I felt warmth seeping through my body and relaxing all the tight muscles. I was surprised to see how much of an effect my physique had on my mentality.

How did he always manage to relax me like this?

"I will take extra precautions, my love," he finally said, chest vibrating as he spoke. My arms wrapped tighter around him and I smiled.

"Thank you."

"Can I have a kiss now?"

I tilted my head back to look at him, finally meeting his gaze. "Is that all you were looking for?"

One of his ears fell to the side. "It wasn't an attempt to manipulate you."

I laughed, bringing my hands up to his face and pulling him down for a brief kiss. "I know, Al. Thank you for listening." My ears picked up on a certain sound. My tail moved up his leg and the sound grew faster. I noticed his smile wobble a little but before I could make a comment he kissed me again. My tail continued up until it found his own tail. It had been wagging. I laughed into the kiss and tried to pull away but he refused, hands holding my face firmly against his so I couldn't say anything.

I tried moving my body to pull away and one of his hands came down to wrap behind my back. He pulled me flush against his body as his other hand moved to the back of my head, lips parting mine and long tongue slipping through. I made a surprised noise and gripped his shirt in my fists. He hummed into the kiss, making me moan.

I pulled away finally, shocked at my own actions, and quickly looked at anything other than him. His chuckle was deep in his chest. He planted a kiss on my cheek then on the side of my forehead.

****

"What do you mean he's missing?" I asked Althea, struggling to find a way to put our healer at ease. Vivian and Vilcin were also trying to talk to her but she was pacing like we'd never seen her do before. Vilcin was visibly upset at their friend's behavior, concerned owl noises bubbling in their throat. Vivian was the better of us three, trying to make conversation and pull out information from anything and everything.

"He's gone. My brother he's...he's just gone. No note, no word, no nothing." She grabbed random things off her shelves and pretended to busy herself. "The guards haven't seen him all day, either. Where could he have gone? He doesn't just disappear."

Althea had been reunited with her brother only recently. Husker had lead a group to save more fighters from the rings and it took mere seconds for Althea to find her brother as she surveyed them all for injuries. He joined the guards as most of the fighters did and any time he wasn't on duty he was in his sister's hut. To be honest, I was often jealous of their close relationship. Even after years of being separated, they came back like no time had passed.

A funny feeling settled in my chest and not a good one. Part of me worried if it was a trap of some kind but it wasn't as if I couldn't not help my friend. I was always the one who went out and searched for angry runaways with worried friends and families.

Althea was so upset. She wasn't thinking in her usual calm way. I had to do something to help her, even if that meant pushing past my own nerves. She was my friend, after all. One of my first friends in the haven.

I reached with my magic to see if Alastor was up at the house. I wanted to let him know that I was going out but he wasn't anywhere on the premise. That made me even more worried, however, that did mean I didn't have to argue with him over leaving the grounds. He would probably argue against it.

"Let me try finding him. I'm good with things like this," I said. Althea finally stopped moving. She turned to look at me as did the others. I waited a moment longer before turning and leaving the healer's hut. They all knew, especially Althea herself, about my worries of Blackwater. I had confided in them about my nightmares since Alastor wasn't the greatest when it came to the aftermath of those.

"Wait!" Althea called, "Let me go with you."

"Huh? Why?" I came to a stop as she ran up.

"At least you'll have someone with you out there. And I want to make sure he's okay when you do find him."

"I'm not sure, Althea," I admitted, "It's easier for me to move by myself as a Dragon. And we need to make sure our one and only healer is safe."

"You also need to be safe," she argued, "If anything happens to you, happens to Alastor, we're nothing against Blackwater."

"You have Charlie. She's pretty powerful. Plus her father is the King of Hell. He'll come to her aid."

"I'm not sure from the things she's told me." She glanced around to ensure no one was listening.

"Maybe we're reading too much into this," I tried, "your brother might have just gotten separated and lost. I'll be careful. I'm also powerful, you know." I turned away and started for the border before she could say anything else. The guards at the edge watched me but said nothing as I passed and morphed into my dragon form, quickly slipping into the forest.

I moved along the tree line until I caught wind of his scent. It was faint, obviously from the night before, and followed it further into the forest. I could smell others which told me he had been with a group. I felt my adrenaline surging through my veins. I missed moving through the forest like this, thinking of the scent and only that, and my claws kicking up dirt behind me. Even the wind slipping under my wings felt great. I felt free.

His scent grew stronger around certain areas. He must've stopped with the group a few times. Then at one point his scent diverted from the group. My nerves went up and reached out with my magic. Everything was on high alert now.

It took only a few strides before I realized something was up. I felt a presence nearby. It wasn't Alastor's and it wasn't Blackwater's. It didn't even feel normal; didn't feel natural. This had to be Blackwater's work. This was a trap. But I couldn't turn back. Not now. I had to save Althea's brother. I couldn't wait for Alastor either. Blackwater might be trying to extract magic from her brother this very moment.

I came to a clearing and dug my heels into the dirt. Standing on the other end was a man in white. He noticed my presence almost immediately, spinning around and extending huge golden wings.

My vision. It's happening!

His face was all black with sharp yellow eyes and teeth. He had black claws and horns. What kind of Demon was this?

"Well well well, nice to finally meet the bastard he spawned," the man said.

"Who are you?" I demanded as I shifted into my Demon form.

"The name's Adam. Like Adam the first man."

"First man?"

"Ch-yeah. I'm the Adam. From the Bible." He planted his fists on his wide hips.

"The Bible?" I deadpanned.

His toothy smile disappeared. "Do you seriously not know what the Bible is?"

I shook my head. "No. I've never heard of it."

"How? It's literally the most popular and controversial book in the whole fucking world."

"So what are you?" I asked.

"I can't fucking believe this." He crossed his arms. "I'm a fucking angel."

He talks weird.

"You look like a Demon, though." I knew Angels existed, being half of one myself, but I had never actually seen one. I thought they might not have a way to cross onto the surface like Demons did.

"Angels don't have a demonic look so I took that into my own hands. But here, let me demonstrate so you actually believe me." He pointed a single finger and a gold beam shot out. I barely moved off the line of trajectory and was thrown backwards into a tree. Stabbing pain throbbed in my shoulder, the smell of burning flesh reaching my nose almost immediately.

I looked down at my shoulder to see a large, steaming hole straight through it. The burning spread from the wound and went down my arm and seeped into my chest. Panicked, I immediately healed the wound and stopped whatever it was from reaching my heart.

My eyes looked up at him through my hair.

Game time.

There was no going back.

I moved to all fours as he spread his wings out. I waited, wanting him to make the first move. And he did. He flew at me at insane speed, barely giving me enough time to roll out of the way. His wings weren't obeying the laws of gravity.

I went into the woods and kept him at a distance with the dense trees. Where was Althea's brother? Where was he keeping him?

I came around a tree and uprooted it as he flew by. He slammed into the roots and crashed into the next one. I jumped on him and pinned his wrists to the ground, claws covering his to prevent him from using his death ray. I used my wings to pin his to the ground as well with surprising ease. I felt bigger. I felt deadly. I felt powerful. What other magic could this Angel do? Surely I was superior because I had both types of magic.

"What a position you've put me in," Adam smirked, "does your soulmate know you do this to other men?"

"Where is the boy?" I demanded, ignoring his remark.

"Like I would fucking tell you." His laugh was cut short when I sank my teeth into his shoulder. The taste was sweet on my tongue but my adrenaline was overpowering the urge. It actually made me uncomfortable to taste anyone else's blood other than Alastor's. "You little bitch!" he yelled as I lifted my head. "Is that how we're playing?"

He twisted my wrist funny and his yellow beam shot through my hand and hit my nose. I fell back and rolled away, clutching my face. He kept shooting at me as I fled among the trees. I uprooted the ground beneath him just to get him to stop.

I casted wind through the trees and sent him tumbling head over heels. I covered my bleeding face and healed the injury on my nose. My shoulder still ached from the first time he hit me. Maybe he didn't have the magic I had as a Demon but that beam of his was incredibly deadly. He could kill me if it hit my head.

I shuddered as Alastor looked through my eyes. I suddenly lost sight of Adam and panicked. I picked a direction and ran, weaving in and out of the trees. Where had he gone? I had blinked and he was gone. That wasn't possible, surely.

Something hard hit my face. It snapped my head to the side and I fell hard on my injured shoulder. I rolled once and slammed my face into a tree. I attempted the 'force field' Alastor had been teaching me. It was short high wings really close to my body to keep anything from reaching me. Though it probably couldn't do anything against his death ray.

A hand gripped my hair and slammed my face into the ground. Adam stepped on my wings and brute forced me onto my back, effectively popping my wing out of its socket. I cried out as he straddled me and closed his hand around my throat.

I felt Alastor reaching for me through our bond but something else, something bright, stopped him. I felt my soul being torn from my body. The pain wasn't physical but no words could describe such a horrible feeling. My mouth opened in a silent scream as it felt like stitches were being popped out the further my soul came from my body.

I shot my magic through my own soul and into Adam's. I pictured grabbed his throat with my own black claws. He suddenly let go and my soul snapped back into my body. My connection with Alastor wobbled.

"I'm done playing these games," he growled, standing up but not removing his feet from either side of my injured form. I was shaking uncontrollably. "You, half bastard, will get what you deserve soon enough."

He finally stepped off my wings and I rolled onto my side. He knelt beside me and grabbed my shoulders. A moment later everything felt as light as a feather.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

What's gonna happen? Who knows? All I know is that this is the 51st PART! That's so many! And you've been with me since the beginning <3

Next part will come Wednesday morning at the latest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @thesimpybitch @papas-ghoulette

#demi demon #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #soulmate au #soulmates #reqs open

[goodqueenaly]

In your opinion, in AFFC, what would have been the best way for Cersei to get rid of Bronn? Could she have just sent him to the Riverlands to ‘help’ Jaime, or to the siege on Dragonstone?

It's not that Cersei didn't have different ideas of how Bronn might have been (in her mind) quietly dispatched. Indeed, when she berates Falyse Stokeworth for the miserable failure of Balman Byrch's assassination attempt, Cersei scolds her that "I asked you to arrange a hunting mishap. An arrow gone astray, a fall from a horse, an angry boar ... [sic] there are so many ways a man can die in the woods". If Cersei is not always the smoothest of operators, much less conspirators and assassins - see, for example, her clumsy attempts to kill Robert, echoed in some of the schemes she suggested above - these were, if only in a very much relative sense, subtler plans than Balman Byrch's naively chivalric interpretation of her barely unspoken directive to kill Bronn. In Cersei's mind, I think, she imagined the plot would have happened quickly and discreetly: Bronn was at Stokeworth, her Stokeworth friends (in the loosest sense of the term) could have lured him into a convenient trap there, Ser Bronn of the Blackwater would have met an untimely end, and no one would have been the wiser as to the queen's hand in all of it.

But the bigger point here is why Cersei believed she had to have Bronn removed in the first place. By buying off Bronn with Lollys Stokeworth, Cersei had freed herself from the fear that he would support Tyrion in the latter's trial - but because Cersei has long operated under the base assumption that Tyrion is the prophesied valonqar who will eventually murder Cersei herself, Cersei could not simply live and let live when it came to Bronn. It could not be the case that Bronn named Lollys' child "Tyrion" out of a sort of wry fondness for his former employer - no, Bronn had to be hinting at his continuing allegiance to Tyrion, even to the absurd point of hiding Tyrion at Stokeworth itself. It could not be that Bronn was simply taking a leaf from his old employer's book by building a personal army for himself out of a handful of sellswords, in order to secure his power in an uneasy position - no, Bronn had to be mobilizing a pro-Tyrion army with the intent of deposing and killing Cersei.

Put bluntly, only Cersei's paranoia had convinced her of the need to have Bronn killed. In her haste to get rid of someone she believed was Tyrion's agent and protector in virtually her backyard, Cersei had not only acted with her characteristic assassination clumsiness, but had also targeted someone who posed no actual threat to her. It was a move that backfired spectacularly, because not only did Bronn survive (which he might have no matter what manner of assassination Cersei chose, given her penchant for chancy prospects), but he did so while forcing Balman to confess that Cersei had put him, Balman, up to it in the first place. Now Bronn knows that Cersei was out to get him on no grounds whatsoever - and as jure uxoris Lord of Stokeworth, he now controls one of the Iron Throne's primary local vassals, the very families Cersei might be calling on for support as her regime crumbles in TWOW. (But at least she and her family didn't ruin relations with another major local Crownlands family, the Rosbys ... oh wait.)

#asoiaf meta #affc #cersei lannister #bronn

[the-holy-ghosted]

*holding out my hands completely unbidden and unprompted*

Hey I heard y’all got ocs in here? Ocs hello?? Hot ocs in my area????

hi im gonna pretend i didnt get this asked to me by somebody else before i clicked a wrong button and tumblr erased the whole post. taking this unbiased opportunity to jump into these characters.

i have had these ocs for upwards of 7 or 8 years, who went untouched for a VERY long time before getting picked back up and refurbished as of about 2 years ago. it is with MUCH pride i tell you that they intertwine very deeply with a friend's own ocs (YOU!! WHO SENT THIS!!) and they've helped me build up these characters into something i'm incredibly proud of and ought to share by now

without further adieu: some pirates, some 19th century fantasy (a LOT of fucking fantasy), and like 8 years worth of worldbuilding that i am STILL not done with. enjoy

FIRST of all let me show you who we're working with:

Who the hell is that?

Leo Blackwater (he/him) - 56 yrs, 5'6'', 152 lbs

Captain of the ship The Eclipse.

Widower of 19 years. only recently decided to open his heart back up; she wanted him to be happy, after all. She's a sensitive topic, even now. so any prodding or teasing on the matter of moving on will be met violently.

Bounty hunter. Smuggler. Doing pirate things, you see. Polite old dad, a warm personality to lure you into a false sense of security and turn you in for a pretty penny.

Disabled after a beam cracked and landed on his knee, breaking it. It never healed right, and hes slower for it, especially in old age. Despite this handicap making him more vulnerable, he does not carry much in the way of weapons.

Eldest of 6 siblings. Son of a humble small town fisherman; perhaps not all that glad for his son's criminality, but the money he sends home makes it forgiven.

Father of one, a daughter, captain of her own ship.

Formed his love for the sea at 18 on his father's fishing boat. Never much respect for the Navy proper. But, after being in the right place at the right time and earning the reward money for a highly wanted pirate, he started to get ideas...

Percius (Percy) Blackwater (they/them) - 48 yrs, 5'10'', 150 lbs

Younger sibling of Leo. 3rd child of 6.

Takes up a number of jobs on Eclipse. Took up the role of second in command after the passing of Mrs. Blackwater.

Respects and trusts their brother's choice in livelihood. Begged since they were young to let them sail with him. Didn't realize what it entailed until they were already aboard.

Unmarried. They're a bit busy right now.

Willing to be called uncle by their beloved niece, for lack of a better word.

Betelgeuse Blackwater (she/her) - 30 yrs, 6'5'', 240 lbs

Captain of The Starlight, all-female crew.

Bounty hunter. Smuggler. Learned her way of living from her parents.

Inherited her face and density from her father, nothing else. Prone to brute force rather than wit and cunning. This works for her just fine.

Quite awkward, if she likes you.

Eldest (and favorite) grandchild, an only child, a totally different woman if you see her around family. Towers over father, but makes herself small for a kiss hello.

Was only about 7 or 8 when her mother passed. She remembers what little she has of her fondly, and greets her kindly when she looks in a mirror.

So whats going on?

What a funny question!!! I got no clue. But I'll start by explaining a little worldbuilding lore (cringe explination incoming):

There is magic in this universe. Not one that's denied or marveled at, but exists as much as everything else you dont pay attention to around you. Its as real as gravity. It's a honed skill in some, frowned upon by others, used unwisely by a small (but not unheard of) few. Magic makes itself present in a number of ways; it's hard to find written rules of these things unless you know precisely what you want and what you believe in. In many areas, some small towns appear to be protected by nameless elements and energies. It's more often that you find individuals who put in the work to harness their beliefs into something tangible, all calling their faiths and abilities something different from each other. Again, its not unheard of for individuals to use these abilities for their own poor intentions. If someone like Leo is lucky, bagging a Magic user is worth every ounce of hassle it takes. He seems to get away with feats like this often, though port authority fears him enough not to ask how. The Blackwaters won't admit foul play, though, if you're in the right town listening to the right gossip, you might hear a rumor or two about Betelgeuse's warm touch and a spitfire attitude when shes angry.

So whats up with Leo?

hehehehe.

As aforementioned, Leo has recently made himself a bachelor. He has no shortage of acquaintances and colleagues in his line of business. His demeanor, if you trust it, is very welcoming to new colleagues. He's not looking for something to jump too quickly into, he's happy to take things slow as he navigates romance again after so long.

And then he captures Roark.

Roark Renshaw (he/him) - 68 yrs, 6'6'', 250 lbs (CREATION OF @skelelephant)

World's worst man.

Captain of The Red Hound, took this position by force at the age of 21. The crew that remained after his mutiny had naught the will to defy him, choosing to follow out of curiosity more than anything else afterward.

Professional menace. High-seas whore. Good old fashioned murderer, committer of pirate crimes as you'd imagine. Terribly smug about it.

Unknown origin, unknown motive. He cropped up out of thin air and has made himself a name to be feared ever since, doing a service to the red flag The Hound flies.

For all his force, he is not one easily captured. For all his reputation, he is reckless. He caught Leo at a bad time, unfortunately.

Roark is a household name among most port towns, wanted dead or alive for the better half of his life by the Navy. His nature is not unlike that of a rabid dog, compared often to his ship's namesake. It is a state of being that none have been able to tame him out of, not by any rotating carousel of lovers he finds among port towns or the enemies he finds in equal amount, and one that gives the bounty over his head a lot of zeros. One that Leo, for all his skill, saw as a pipe dream. Leo knew of him, certainly. Roark has been on his radar since before his wife's passing- they'd spoken of capturing him fondly, joked about like some impossible fantasy. But for all his reputation comes bad habits that lower his guard when he needs it most. Stumbling drunkenly out of a tavern one evening, docked unknowingly at the same port as The Eclipse, he is disarmed and captured before he knows it.

This is a victory unheard of. It seems only fitting that Leo Blackwater would bag him, Roark having not expected to meet his match in such a mild man. Before the crew of The Hound have enough notice, Eclipse sails off to deposit the dog that is Roark Renshaw to the navy for a glorious execution, and an even more glorious reward. Leo has the gall to boast this to his prisoner, who seems almost humored. Hes quite charming when hes disarmed, a feature of his that seeps into the cracks of Leo's resolve and that itch the loneliness that he had yet to satisfy. Hes dangerous even with his hands tied.

This is what solidifies Leo's decision to turn him in. A man who so loved to be chased and so loved the rotten attention he recieved, who needed to be put down. It was a thrill, though, to capture the hound himself and be one of few to ever do so. To be revered as Roarks captor would make one want to do it all over again.

By luck or by the hunger for chase that gnawed on Roark and Leo's ribs, Roark finds the moment to escape as hes being escorted off the ship. Leo, notably, makes a piss poor attempt at catching him.

Seen as a dire fluke from the outside, the captains know it was on purpose. They've found themselves amidst a game of cat and mouse, that gives them a small purpose for at least a little while. You bond very closely when trying to kill each other, you know!

So what's their deal?

Well, their deal is that they *make* a deal.

Though Roark might be a big fish in their career pond, he is not the only one. Eventually, always eventually, there is another to challenge Roark's reputation. He wants the pirate out of his way, and Leo could always use another bounty. But hes slippery... moreso than Roark, who lets himself into Leo's jaws on purpose.

So... an alliance is formed. Temporary, of course, they split this bounty and part ways. So they say. But Roark is a charming man, and fulfills the loneliness and search for companionship that Leo wanted... and Leo is collected and steady, more than the majority of Roark's colleagues. They stand out to each other. They're comfortable. Attached.

So... after the bounty is collected they choose not to end their truce. Spend more time together. Work together exceptionally well. Balance each other out, in a way.

So they're together?

GAY AS CAN BE, BABY.

probably the only existing drawing of them Together despite how much we both draw them seperately.

Their alliance spills over into something... fond. Affectionate, even. A few meetups at a port town turn into a lot more working together peacefully. This leads to some... interesting wires to cross between their own respective enemies, interesting wires between one another. They get to know each other very personally in some strenuous circumstances.

Anyways! Now that they're on the table, I feel a little more comfortable to talk about them more. Draw them more. Answer some questions, if anybody has any. I did leave a lot open-ended...

#the heron giveth #the heron speaketh #the heron heareth #trifecta just for good measure #the heron's ocs #i guess thatll be my oc tag now #ANYWAYS. HIIIIIII hes been a long time coming mr blackwater sir #and his darling normal family #worked for a couple days on this i guess its as good as an introduction can get. i can always post more lore and drawings later #would be suuuuuch a shame if people sent me asks. about them. asking quastions. so i can post more about them #and for the love of GOD eveyrbody give erin some attention for roark hes my FAVORITEST BOY. IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD #and erin is my favoritest canadian in the whole wide world. which means they deserve all the attention they can get #im very glad to see leo's progress over being a minor villain in a different overarching story to like. his own little guy. hes a guy now #hes so important to me. put so much of myself in him. i love him so much i hope others will too

[definegodliness]

Missing ingredients

On a faithful day I was wholly beguiled By an unkempt girl; an old forest’s child.

She walked with the ravens in her wake, And lived in a cottage near blackwater lake.

I followed her home for a country mile, Held by her hand, and lured by her smile.

How quaint, her cottage, swallowed by bowers, Perfumed, enticing, by fragrant flowers.

Inside it was warm, and I wanted to stay Long ere she asked me the night-to-day.

Smitten, I was, by her sprucely appeal As she twirled ‘round her cauldron, preparing a meal.

She offered a bowl of hot steaming soup, It smelled so good my saliva could droop.

I scarfed it down to bowl-licked-clean, Then all of a sudden I turned shamrock green! I did not stop, or stop to think Her brew was concocted to make me shrink. Now twas too late, and I flopped down my boot, No longer a man, but a slippery newt.

The little witch cackled, and pounced as I fled; I praised my slick skin, or else I'd be dead! I slipped through her fingers, snatching at me, And found a dark crevasse, fortunately.

Since then we share each day and night; It's nice so long I stay out of sight: It smells like flowers, and my landlady's cute; No, it's not that bad, being a newt.

At times she calls out my name till she cries; I'd comfort her, sure, but she wants my eyes, And I'd rather keep them to covertly see Her twirling the cauldron, Enchanting me.

--- 28-4-2023, M.A. Tempels ©

#poetry #spilled ink #writing #witch #poem #romanticism #rhyme #creative writing #alt lit #poets on tumblr #tumblr poetry #newt #spilled thoughts #magic #fairy tale #words #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writers

[omegaremix]

Omega Radio for April 11, 2020; #226.

The Districts “Cheap Regrets”

Squid “Cleaner”

Vivian Girls “Something To Do”

Heavy Lungs “Blood Brother”

Don’t Try “Melancholy Chapters”

Jehnny Beth “I’m The Man”

Pom Pom Squad “Heavy Heavy”

Dahlia Sleeps “Settle Down”

Snarls “Walk In The Worlds”

The City Gates “Checkpoint Charlie”

Tempers “Undoing”

Kewl “Glamour Muscles”

Future Islands “Day Glow Fire”

Algiers “Dispossession”

Georgia Maq “Away From Love”

Shana Falana “Darkest Light”

Blackwater Holylight “Death Realms”

Soviet Soviet “Ecstasy”

Gentle Heat “A Lure”

Fawns Of Love “December”

Chasms “Shadow”

Stardeath And White Dwarves “What Keeps You Up At Night”

Penelope Isles “Round”

Crumb “Ghostride”

Yeah Yeah Yeahs “Diamond Sea”

Khruangbin “Friday Morning”

Kate Tempest “People’s Faces”

Pre-Easter broadcast; all indie and top shelf sounds.

#omega #music #playlists #mixtapes #indie #pop #city #Districts #Squid #Vivian Girls #Jehnny Beth #Pom Pom Squad #Snarls #Tempers #Future Islands #Algiers #Georgia Maq #Shana Falana #Soviet Soviet #Chasms #Stardeath And White Dwarves #Crumb #Yeah Yeah Yeahs #Khruangbin #Kate Tempest

[naffeclipse]

I come to ask for more naga au snippets please 🥹 im on ma knees

Here ya go

Naga Eclipse learns that you're not actually staring but capturing pictures with your device, so he snatches you. The fact that you're unwilling is no bother to him; he carries you through the marsh and deep water to reach gorgeous landscapes he thinks you might want to capture. You learn that when Eclipse picks you up, it's best to settle in for the little outing and get some incredible snapshots.

When you express your desire for a particular bird feather, he returns with just that in hand. You're too scared to ask how he got it. You have to admit, it is a gorgeous gift. He only gives you a gift once you express your desire for something, so you're careful with your words. Mostly, it's harmless.

Naga Eclipse is far more into physical contact as one: he can hold you without threat to your immediate health (your anxiety levels on the other hand—) and two: he leaves his scent on you. Only he knows how much you smell like him, marked by his affection. He adores that when you return, he gets to nuzzle your neck again.

You miss him one day only to return the next and find him barely able to balance on his tail, lethargic and slow. You've learned that means he's eaten, and you've learned to not ask what. He speaks little, but when he finally reaches you, he pulls you into his arms and bundles you in his tail like a little nest. Then, he sleeps. You can't move much, but the sun feels nice. You take the chance to study Eclipse without being interrupted by his usual antics.

He's peaceful when he softly snoozes. You listen to birdsong and wait until you dare wake him and coax him to let you go so you can return the next day. He's a grump when you try. He pulls you back repeatedly, suddenly revived with energy when you try to leave. Eventually, he lets you go—but you wonder if there will come a day when he won't.

You smell sweet to him, like sugar. He adores calling you sweet mouse because of how you wrinkle your nose. He loves the soft sounds of surprises you make when he holds you. Every little gasp and squeak is lovely. He likes to squeeze you just to hear those fall out of your mouth.

He has the power of hypnotic suggestion with his gaze. If he caught your eye and brought it into play, you would be utterly charmed, but he has only used it in threats a time or two. Perhaps if you've ever been particularly distressed, he would calm you down subtly—just until your breaths evened out from the shallow and panicked gulps they were turning into, though he wouldn't hold you under it for long. He wants you as you are. And he wants you to want him.

#blackwater lure #naga!eclipse #cailaventog #naff writing

[the-supernatural-rewatch-project]

s1e2 "Wend*go"

supernaturals second episode, and its first (and certainly not last) to feature a monster of the week taken and bastardized from indigenous mythologies or folklore... why am i rewatching this again? let the records show that i am white, and all the indigenous voices who i have heard / read have lead me to make the decision to censor the name w*. okay with the housekeeping out of the way, what's sloppy sam and daddy issues dean upto this week.

aw man the recap made me angry again that jess died. i miss her. all three minutes of screentime she had.

oh boy i wonder whats gonna happen to these poor campers

brooo they got the ds local play!!!! takes me back

how do they still have battery in thier cells/ds's on day SIX OF CAMPING???

cory monteith :')

and they are dead

okay so how long has it been since the events of the last episode? the existence of the monster of the week as an episodic style implies a quick succession between episodes, but the fully completed gravestone for jess implies that it has been a quick minute since she dies (also apparently she dies november 5th 2005, i didn't know the exact date was know so thats interesting!)

like gravestones take a hot minute, especially the fancy kind with the pictures.

BUT there still isn't grass over her grave,and cemetery gardeners are QUICK with the sod after someone is buried... so like... did jessica already have a grave with her name and birthdate engraved, and it just needed date of death and the picture??? (not unheard of but unlikely for someone her age)

wait, im dumb as fuck. she died on the cealing of a suspicious house fire, she has been in a coroner or medical examiners office for a while, she was just buried but its been a bit since she died leaving time for the engraving.

^^^ this nerd almost became a funeral director.

oh yeah, i like the nod to carrie.

WAIT IT WAS A DREAM. it means nOTHING. and even if it was a dream it was written by someone who wouldn't think about the amount of time to engrave a toombstone

of okay so its been atleast a week since jess's death.

oh yeah, its john who is sending them to blackwater ridge, i forgot about his whole sending them on hunting trips shit he did at the beginning.

"i think i know how you feel" the first and last time dean shows emotion and it feels genuine.

forgot how 'old' the tech feels, and how magical it was.

magical laptop nand its magical ability to solve any problem dads journal cant solve.

the way they describe the w* is quite nice, you cant see it its too fast, it unlocked the door. it really brings out the unsettledness of a monster you cant see.

does dean really think ''corporal' is too fancy??? like girl

oh god i forgot the creepy cave.

aaaaaand cory is dead :(

okay, nvm deam had two (2) genuinely tender moments in the episode.

"not even crickets"

oh god i forgot about it using the voices to lure them.

this is one of the episodes that i cam remember a lot of, but god its still creepy.

okay it taking the packs was smart

oh boy dads journal, i wonder what magical answer it will have this time

"no body likes a skeptic roy", just fuck him dean!! its not gay if you are camping!!! everyone knows that.

"saving people hunting things, the family business" god i hate that line. there was once a time where i genuinely wanted that tattooed on me. thank fuck you cant get a tattoo at 14.

its really interesting how they are coping differently with johns disappearance, dean see's it as him giving them a job, whereas sam sees it as him being in trouble.

once again, i can see why wincest was the big ship, not for me... but i can see why.

OH NO ROY IS GONNA DIE!!!!, anyways

vey well timed body dropping from a tree

also does kripke have like a thing for brod dripping on poeple because uhhh... two episodes in and we are at three instances of blood dripping on people.

if the saddle club has taught me ANYTHING its that you defo shouldn't go down an abandoned mineshaft

its too dark i cant see

magic flareguns, why were they in the cave??? just to solve a problem the writes wrote themselves into???? yup!

deans first thought of how to lure it out was to start yell flirting. okay gayboy.

it just looks like... a gargoyle?? i feel like they could have done "human turned into a monster better" then just, paint them grey and give it strange ears. to be fair i have a very high standard of what a good 'human turned into a monster' should be because the s2 of the x files finale where mulder and scully are in the train car with the 'alien's' that are actually humans, deduced from their smallpox inoculation scars is peak television. PEAK TELEVISION!!!

also, i am now requited to start a tally of how many rewatches i can bring up the x files in.

the actress who plays Haley (Gina Holden) looks so familler to me, but i looked at her imdb and noting is ringing a bell

sam drives the impala.

okay, well that was an episode. asides from the butchering of the wend*go story/mythology to fit the show. it wasn't a bad episode. its pretty hard to fuck up a monster of the week episode. again, i didn't like the prosthetics that they used for the wend*go. but asides from that... its fine. its okay. its a solid episode. it's not the best, and its not the worst. sam and dean have a nice heart to heart. yeah. very mid episode.

#the supernatural rewatch project #tsrp #s1ep2 #wend*go #season 1 #supernatural analysis

[sheniq]

Two dogs reported stolen from their owner Feb. 7 in Waid Park near Rocky Mount were found dead Tuesday on the side of a road about 4 miles away, the county sheriff's office said. County resident Terry Michel was walking his two black labs named Caleb and Colby on one of the trails in Waid Park on Feb. 7 when, according to his wife Rhonda Michel, they got loose chasing a squirrel. Michel followed them and reported seeing two men load the dogs into an off-white Jeep Grand Cherokee and drive away. Rhonda Michel said the men lured the dogs with food into the vehicle parked in a gravel driveway just before the park's entrance.  Sgt. Megan Huston with the Franklin County Sheriff's Office said deputies in the county and police officers in the town of Rocky Mount were asked to be on the lookout for the SUV after the incident. Cameras located in the park were not useful in this instance. Though cameras record every vehicle that enters and exits the park as well the parking lot, the location where the dogs' owner reported them taken is outside of the view of the cameras, Huston said. Ronald Mitchell, supervisor for the Blackwater District which includes Waid Park, said he has requested additional patrols at the park since learning of the incident. Huston said she is encouraging visitors to the park to make sure to lock their doors and to place any valuable items in the trunk.  The Franklin County Humane Society will be holding a candlelight vigil at the park at 5:30 p.m. Saturday. The nonprofit has closely followed reports of the theft of Caleb and Colby and provided information on its Facebook page. Anita Scott, director of the Franklin County Humane Society Adoption Center, said Caleb had been adopted from the center just a month ago. She was shocked to learn of the news of the abduction and their discovery.  The dogs' remains were found Tuesday afternoon near the 500 block of Carolina Springs Road, approximately 4 miles north of the park. Michel said they received a call from someone who found the dogs and had seen the information about the missing dogs online. She went to the location and confirmed it was Caleb and Colby before contacting the sheriff's office. https://www.instagram.com/p/CotHMICMZpz/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[womansunsky]

Game of thrones season 8 episode 3 leak

Theon rescues Yara, who then sets out to retake the Iron Islands, while Theon returns to Winterfell. Cersei, through Qyburn, hires Bronn to assassinate Tyrion and Jaime. Euron returns to King's Landing with the Golden Company and entices Cersei to consummate their union. The Northern Houses and the Vale rally around Winterfell but distrust Daenerys and doubt Cersei's pledge to send troops. Upon reaching Winterfell with their combined armies, Jon and Daenerys learn the Army of the Dead has breached the Wall and the Night King commands the undead Viserion. See also: List of Game of Thrones episodes No. Arya sails west, and Jon leads the Wildlings north of the Wall. Sansa Stark is crowned Queen in the North. The leaders of Westeros choose Bran Stark as King, who grants the North independence and appoints Tyrion his Hand. Drogon flies away with her body, but not before destroying the Iron Throne with dragonfire. Unable to sway her from her destructive path, an agonized Jon kills her. Daenerys vows to "liberate" the whole world as she has liberated the capital of Westeros. She defeats Cersei's forces, burns the city and kills Cersei and her brother Jaime. The second half of the season resumes the war for the throne as Daenerys suffers losses until she finally assaults King's Landing upon Drogon, her last dragon. Meanwhile, Cersei Lannister remains in King's Landing and strengthens her forces to set traps for a weakened Daenerys. During the battle, Bran lures the Night King into the open where Arya destroys him the army of White Walkers and wights crumble. In the first half of the season, Jon Snow, Daenerys Targaryen and many of the main characters converge at Winterfell to face the Dead. The final season depicts the culmination of the series' two primary conflicts: the Great War against the Army of the Dead, and the Last War for control of the Iron Throne. It won twelve, including Outstanding Drama Series and Outstanding Supporting Actor in a Drama Series for Peter Dinklage. The season received 32 nominations at the 71st Primetime Emmy Awards, the most for a single season of television in history. While the performances, production values and music score were praised, criticism was mainly directed at the shorter runtime of the season as well as numerous creative decisions made by the showrunners regarding the plot and character arcs many commentators deemed it to be a disappointing conclusion to the series. The season was met with mixed reviews from critics, in contrast to the largely critical acclaim of previous seasons, and is the lowest-rated of the series on the website Rotten Tomatoes. The season was adapted for television by David Benioff and D. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series, while also incorporating material that Martin has revealed to showrunners about the upcoming novels in the series, The Winds of Winter and A Dream of Spring. The season was filmed from October 2017 to July 2018 and largely consists of original content not found in George R. Unlike the first six seasons, which consisted of ten episodes each, and the seventh season, which consisted of seven episodes, the eighth season consists of only six episodes.

Similarly, Season 5, Episode 8, “Hardhome,” largely focuses on the Massacre at Hardhome.The eighth and final season of the fantasy drama television series Game of Thrones, produced by HBO, premiered on April 14, 2019, and concluded on May 19, 2019. The best example is the “Battle of the Bastards” (Season 6, Episode 9), but the Battle of the Blackwater (Season 2, Episode 9, titled simply “Blackwater”) also supports this theory. After all, HBO did surprise us with the Episode 2 title, but the show also has a history of naming its most epic episodes after the battles they’re focused on. Subscribe for free to Multiverse and get Game of Thrones coverage delivered to your inbox the night the episode airs. In short, it was a terrible experience for everyone involved.īut hopefully, it will all be worth it when Game of Thrones Season 8, Episode 3 airs this Sunday, and while the title may be under lock and key, we have a pretty good guess as to what it will be: “The Battle of Winterfell.” In the end, it was an 11-week shoot involving roughly 750 people working in freezing temperatures, cold rain, strong winds, and lots of mud. Previous reports revealed that filming the battle was a huge undertaking, made more difficult by the decision to have the entire thing take place at night. Last night, we learned that Episode 2 was actually titled “A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms,” but the Episode 3 title is still a mystery - or is it?Įxtremely light spoilers for Game of Thrones Season 8, Episode 3 below.Īt this point, it’s pretty much a given that next week’s episode will focus on the Great Battle of Winterfell. HBO is so scared of Game of Thrones spoilers leaking out that it’s not even revealing Season 8 episode titles until after each new episode airs.

#Game of thrones season 8 episode 3 leak

[seoness]

Greed not Gratitude

18+ | Smut | Sandor Clegane/Fem!OC | TV-Show based | One-shot | Request

Summary: The Hound comes across a woman not long after the Battle of Blackwater. Casual sex turns sweet.

The meadow greeted Helen as it always did, bumblebees bopping from one bloom of wildflower to the next. Once she would have stepped out from the cover of the forest without a second thought. Run through the tall grass to reach the lake on the other side. That was before. Before the war. Before the Mountain that Rides had put the Riverlands to the torch and its fire spreading throughout the Seven Kingdoms.

The homesteads raised by the shore were nothing more than charred black beams of black jutting up into the blue sky, and the only ones that shared the forest with her now were broken men. Them, and now... a horse?

The black stallion nibbled away at the grass, only briefly lifting his head to look at the treeline. That wasn't some draft horse of palfrey—a warhorse. But the air wasn't filled with what followed such kinds, no smoke or rot. Perhaps it had bolted away from some battle. Helen saw no rider. A trap? Some ambush to lure a fool out of the woodworks?

The temptation was too great.

Helen prided herself in not being that said fool. She wasn't. She was, on the other hand, very much desperate. A group of broken men had taken refuge in a cavern nearby, far too close to her hut for comfort. Helen could leave with that horse, and it would not mean abandoning everything she owned. The woman had no husband to support her. It was her own work that kept her fed. When these lands still contained more living than dead, she had been sought after for her drafts and to mend broken bones and stitch up wounds. One needed tools for that. What point was there to flee only to starve?

"How strong you look," she commended, having gathered the courage to approach.

The stallion stomped at the ground, nostrils flaring. No outlaw had jumped up and swung a sword at her. Granted, that might not be needed. This horse seemed more than willing to kill her on his own.

"I offer you care if you let me ride you," she continued.

Cursing in her mind for not paying more attention when old Bertrum talked about his time as a stablehand to Lord Hogg when she had come over with his weekly treatment for gout. Being a woods witch, everyone expected the woman to be intuned with animals. How sorely mistaken they all had been.

Helen tore off some grass, holding it out to the stallion. "Plenty more if you don't throw me off, more still if you take me south."

The rattle of metal made Helen freeze. A shadow fell over her and she spun on her heel. Idiot! Why did she have to be so dumb?

"Polite," the stranger grunted, his voice deep and raspy, "for a horse thief."

The dark plate was drenched in blood. The face caked with mud and gore that had dried to a mask. Thin strands of hair clumped together and Helen could smell it. War. Smoke and charred flesh wrapped together in the sourness of bile and wine. The man already loomed above yet the woman still shrank under those dark eyes, drunk and sullen.

"Pardon Ser," she piped, jumping back.

The mask cracked as the stranger scrounged his nose. "Not a knight."

Squinting the man looked around, grumbling beneath his breath, "Where am I?"

"Not so far from Sow's Horn," Helen replied. "Are you a friend of Eskel?"

"No." The stranger looked over toward his mount before meeting her gaze again. "Who haggles with a horse?"

Helen knew better than to respond and as he made his way towards the saddle, the woman walked around in a half-circle, to keep from being within reach.

"The Ivy Inn, it's near here? Know who controls it?"

"It is, but no, I stay away from such places these days," she replied.

So the stranger wasn't one of the broken men under Eskel. That man had roared out his presence throughout the forest since the first day he and his men arrived. He thought himself fearsome. Helen thought it made him sound afraid, like a cat bristling up its back an hissing. The woman had run into them once, harvesting, and those men's want of her was more than apparent.

So not a knight, but perhaps some freerider that had run into bad luck? Even if he was a deserter, maybe he was a polite one. She'd not get herself twisted up for the sake of some noble she didn't even know. The woman couldn't have his horse, so maybe he could be her solution. After all, everyone loved gold.

"If you're not a friend of Eskel, could I offer you work?"

"Not intersted."

Her stomach twisted into knots as he took to the saddle. "You look strong and there are some outlaws nearby, they aren't many. I-"

"You deaf?" His snarl made the woman jump.

"I-I have gold, not a fortune but enough and I could treat any ailment you have... you look hurt and-there-is-plenty-of-wiiine," the last part flowed out of Helen as the man glared. "Please? I will reward you plenty, and if you need a roof over your head for the night my hut can give it."

The hand that had travelled to the hilt of his longsword hadn't pulled up, but neither had it gone. Did he consider it? It was hard to tell, Helen couldn't even see what he looked like underneath all that grime.

"A spring... there's a hot spring near my hut where you can clean yourself and wine, I have wine."

The dark eyes narrowed. "How many?"

"Four."

.. / ..-. . . .-.. / .-.. .. -.- . / .. .----. -- / -.. .-. --- .-- -. .. -. --.

The sack hit against the stone path that twined to hut's doorstep. The roughspun fabric seeped in blood. A head rolled out, wide eyes bulging so far out Helen thought they would pop out of the skull. There were more still within his sack.

"You killed them?"

The stranger shrugged. "Tried to drive them away. Wouldn't go."

There was a time such a sight would have made the woman wail, but that was before. Now she had seen enough suffering for ten lifetimes.

And so Helen turned in her doorway. "Throw them away. I'll serve supper."

She had spent the day preparing. Ensuring that if the man returned with his life, he wouldn't go to bed hungry. Two of her hens had been sacrificed, feathers plucked and skin rubbed with honey and thyme. If that was not to his liking a thick rabbit stew bubbled away in the kettle with roots and cuttings from her garden and she had fished out the flagons and wine from the earthcellar and the pleasant smell of freshly baked bread filled the hut.

The only window was the hole in the roof, venting out the smoke of the hearth, making her home dimly lit even during the day. It wasn't much, packed earth and thatch, but it was hers.

"You wouldn't want to eat by that table. You're only on it if I'm to stitch something up or saw someting off," she warned as the man made his way to it and signed towards one of the logs by the hearth. "You never told me your name."

"You mentioned wine," he rasped.

Fine, but she took point to not introduce herself either. The woman brought him a flagon, then a platter of rabbitstew and one of the chickens and some rolls of bread. Then another round, and another. In the end, Helen gave up on serving him and put down everything close to the man before seating. Stretching out her legs with a sigh.

The stillness made the woman able to get a better look of her guest. Muscles made his arms thick like logs and those hands didn't belong to some haughty highborn. A burn by the right side of his face crept up into his hairline and disappeared beneath strands of brown. Where flame hadn't touched was a weathered face, and the man had more than one winter under his belt. Helen had spent moons without a soul to keep her company. That was her excuse. Be it a good or a bad one, as her blood began to rush. Shifting her legs, the wetness had already made her inner thighs slick.

"If I may?" Helen's mouth had dried and her voice spun, "You have worked hard, you could always visit the spring before turning in for the night."

The stranger watched her with weary eyes, and Helen knew her cheeks had flushed, the skin prickling.

"Already agreed to my reward," he grunted, scratching his stubbled chin.

"I believe your are mistaking my greed for gratitude."

Silence stretched on as he studied her. Only the crackle of flame filled it. Perhaps she wasn't his taste? A shame. Helen was no maiden and the virtue septons and septas preached wasn't so alluring when they already condemned her for being a witch. The only thing she would have gained was pleasure.

As the man rose, putting aside his bowl and cup, excitement tugged at her lips. "I am not intruding on a wife's claim? A loved one's?"

"Only whores," the man said.

Helen's laughter hit against the walls of the hut. "Forgive me, I just- Perhaps I should be grateful then. Making moon tea has kept me fed." She made sure to make her smile warm, show him that she had no intention to belittle. The tincture was quite a speciality of hers. Most healers could boil the brew but few could make it palpable.

The stranger rounded the fire carefully, as if going to quick would startle her and make Helen flee.

"I would like a name," she said, "if you wouldn't mind."

"Sandor."

"Helen."

The woman could taste the tension in the air as his gaze lowered and she began to unbuckle her belt. Helen allowed the layers of linen and knitted wool to part until air met her bared breasts. It was strange. This tingle inside, she had felt it many times before but it had been too long since last. It had become something foreign. Gods she had missed it. To tease. To have someone strong wrapped around her finger. It was too good to pass up.

Sandor's hands came down but Helen was already gone from her seat, slinking past with ease.

"A bath?" she asked and savored the glare.

The sun had begun to set, and not before long, Sandor stepped out stripped of his armor and the tunic and breeches hid little. His hand rested by his belt, the longsword still hanged from it. She woudln't ask him to leave it behind, the war had made the forest far more dangerous and not all those dangers came from men.

Helen walked backwards toward the path, hands drifting to the shoulders and the first outer layer dropped to the ground. Stepping over the bundle.

"Eager," he noted.

"Does that threaten you?" Helen smiled before turning to face the trail.

The man only answered with a snort. It earned him the drop of her apron. Helen finally felt alive. The forest rose high around them, and the scent of pine was heavy, and behind, Helen could hear his footsteps. The spring was within view when the final layer, a white chemise, bunched by her feet. The skin was rough against her waist as his hands clamped down and Helen gasped as Sandor pulled her back. The gasp turning to a mewl as she felt his cock press against her. Catching her chin, Sandor made her crane back until she looked up at his face, not that she could keep his gaze for long. His left hand finding her breast. Kneeding until the fingers found her nipple, already stiff, and tugged ever so slightly.

"I take you as I want, and you can take me as you want," he said. "Fair?"

She might have a name for him now, but this man was still a stranger. His want? Well, that could be anything. Fear made her heart race but it only heightened the pulse in her lower. Helen's hand slipped between them, searching around against skin and cloth until a groan left Sandor's lips as she found him.

"If you can go more than once," she said, "and I take it we begin with you?"

Helen's hands and knees hit the dirt. His fingers came first. Inspecting that she was wet before he entered... it wasn't bad. Just... mindless. Sandor's hips rutted against her and the only thing that made it escape the territory of boredom was his size. Stretching against his thickness, each thrust danced between pleasure and pain. When Sandor's pace grew quicker, so did its strength. Helen braced herself on the ground and the man began to plow her into it. The large hands getting purchase whereever they could. Without warning, Sandor pulled out and a sticky warmth hit her lower back. Was this what sex was to him? A waiting game? Stick it in, pound and retreat?

Tipping over to her back, Sandor's hand gripped her legs. "I've hurt you."

Hurt is a bit much, ache more like, she thought, but the man's eyes were fixed on her knees. The ground had rubbed the skin raw, and tiny pearls of blood rose from her knees making the man's face twist.

"Oh, there's no need to feel bad. This is nothing," she said, waving his hands away. "Some fyremilk and broadleaf, and I'll be as good as new:"

Pulling his breeches up, Sandor hooked his arms underneath her before Helen had time to stand.

"It's a graze, I've not turned cripple," she said, but the objection didn't keep her from enjoying every step the man took to the spring, lowering her into the milky warm waters. "Thank you."

For every word this man spoke, at least ten were chewed, a slew of muttering left Sandor as he removed his clothed and seated himself in the waters beside her. Gaze fixed on the knees kept above the waterline as she curled up her legs.

"Believe me, if it had angered me, you would have known it," Helen tried.

"So what will you have me do? Never tasted a woman's cunt, but-" the words stopped when he met her eyes again, the voice growing to a snarl. "What?"

"No, it's fine," Helen piped, cursing herself for looking so stunned.

"Clearly."

Her hand darted up as he rose, catching his, but seeing him bare pulled the words out of her mouth. Sandor had entered the waters so quickly that Helen hadn't gotten a good look. Dark hair coverered most of his skin. Sure, armor was worn to shield but it was also to impress, and Sandor was far more impressive without. The chest broad. Each part of him spoke to his strength. Hair travelled down his stomach like an arrow pulling her sight lower. The cock no longer hard had yet it had not lost its size. Making her mouth drier still.

"Please, we made a bargain and I didn't mean to mock you," she said softly. "I just... I've never met a man that make such offers."

Sandor's body tensed as she leaned forward, seating herself on her knees and placing a light kiss by his tip.

"But that's not what I want," she whispered and placed another kiss above the last, then another so that when coarse hair tickled her nose, Sandor had hardened. His cock resting against her cheek. "Please..."

Let me take care of you.

Seating himself on the edge Helen used his legs as armrests, lowering until her lips closed around his cock. The warmth rested against her tongue when his hand stroked her hair.

"You may only touch me if I ask you to," she said. "If there's something you want me to do, ask and I'll grant it. Maybe."

The tingle grew to a steady pulse as he gripped the edge, knuckles whitening. In this moment, this stranger, this man, was hers.

"Can you do that for me?" Helen spun.

"Aye, just bloody start again."

The woman would be merciful. Heed his first want. Slowly her mouth filled with more of him, sucking gently, tasting the salt on his skin.

"Faster."

But Helen pulled back just as slow, meeting his gaze. The pulse turning to a throb in her lower. Those dark eyes, it was like he could see right through her. No man had come close to this. That delicious frustration burning in his eyes.

"Don't stop," Sandor cursed as she released.

"I'm not." I'm rewarding you. And so she went lower, the tip of her nose brushing against his length until her lips brushed by his root. Helen's tongue grazed below his cock, making the man's legs jerk around her.

"May I continue?"

But Sandor didn't answer. His jaw clenched. Chest heaving. It oozed out of him, his hunger, a heat wrapping tight around them. Helen cocked her left brow.

"Get on with it," Sandor commanded.

"Not a very kind response," she replied.

Grunting, Sandor fell back and laid himself across the rock, "For fuck sake, wom-"

Evil. How to woman loved to be it. Helen's tongue had returned before Sandor finished his complaint, flicking a wonderful spot, a strand that ran below every man's cock and she had yet not found one who didn't pray to every god under the sun when she tended to it. Her hands stroked what, not long ago, had pounded deep inside her. Had that point been reached? No, not yet. She had him for a bit longer.

"There's a place just a bit lower..."

"You're not buggering me, woman," Sandor replied, struggling to keep his breath steady.

That possibility hadn't even been in her mind and Helen smiled as he propped himself up on his elbows. Sandor was adorable. All glaring and sullen.

"Not that, it's above," she explained and her finger traced by his inner thigh to sign where her mouth would go. "I want to care for you there. I won't go lower, not unless you want me to."

Cursing underneath his breath Sandor waved for her to continue.

Helen stayed, her tongue only giving way to her lips, and around her, this man that had put stop to an entire band of broken men was quivering helplessly. Needing to see his face, those eyes again, the woman began her climb.

"You're beatiful," Helen whispered as she straddled his lap.

"Blind then."

"Would handsome be more accepted?" Helen asked, but the man only grimaced. "Comely?" Clearly not. "Pretty seems an odd pick for someone so rugged..."

His hands closed around her waist and the man rose enough so she sat in his embrace. Helen's hands travelled up his arms. Aren't you a strange man. So honied words is your weakness. How cute.

"Handsome," she confirmed.

His length brushed against her lower but when Sandor shifted his hips to thrust inside, Helen followed with. Holding her breath as his cock only stroked against. To feel every part of him slide against, rubbing her clit. The woman bucked up, spreading, her entire body pleading for him not to stop. Shutting her eyes she gave into it, to feel only his touch. The deep chuckle, his scent, the growing warmth were skin met skin devoured her. Helen's mind playing catchup as hair brushed against her fingers, the firmness of his mucles beneath, before his stubble prickled around her mouth. The man was as rigid as stone as Helen's lips began to nibble his. I'm kissing him? Breathless she pulled away.

"I'm sorry, I should have asked." With each pull of air she could taste his breath on her tongue.

He was so close. Something to resist, and her insides fluttered as the man lowered his face. Sighing out in disappointement as his mouth brushed past hers until she felt a sharp sweet pain by her ear. Sandor bite turned to a tug before his mouth travelled down. A shiver ran along her spine as his hands found place by her ass, beginning to kneed.

"Sandor..."

Grinding against him, his grip urging the woman on. You were the one to be wrapped around my finger, but the thought didn't feel so bitter as his teeth sank into the nape of her neck, enough to leave a mark but not so deep to draw blood.

A grunt left him as she shoved with a strength the woman didn't even know she possessed. Helen knew what he was doing, she'd not let her be trapped just so easily. Leaning forward his cock rested between her legs, pushing up against her as Helen's mouth began to travel. A kiss by his ribs, a slight bite by his nipple and enjoying the growl rumbling from his throat.

"You can't be real," she whispered before catching his lips again and his tip brushed her lower, barely reaching after her climb up.

The arms snapped around her and Helen cried muffled against his lips as Sandor bucked up with his hips. Entering. Not mindless like the last. His hips flushed against her skin, the woman tightened around him. She was more now, more than a quick pleasure to make him spent. The limit of were he ended and she began erased.

"Here," Helen sighed and guided his hand to the lower of her stomach. "Press here."

And Sandor heeded her want. The woman couldn't explain why, she just knew that when a man pressed down there anything he did was heightened. Each thrust, deeper. Helen grinded against him. At parts his hard thrusting gave way to her slow and steady pace. The air filling with her breathy moans.

"Don't go," she pleaded as he began to tense and the dark eyes met her again. "Stay, I'll make the tea if you want me to."

Sandor frowned until he, for the first time, looked at her truly stunned. "Let me feel every part of you," she whispered.

It no longer felt like a man was inside her. Sandor rose, lifting her like nothing, and the water of the hotspring didn't even reach the man's knees. It wasn't long. Helen couldn't tell how many thrusts it was, each one numbed her mind, until his grunt cut through it. Sandor's arms tightened around her before he lowered into the waters. Panting for air.

"Fuck, woman."

But as he was to pull out she rutted against, making another curse leave his lips.

"Let it stay, please. I want to feel it go," she said.

And Sandor allowed that want too. Helen rested against his chest as she felt the hardness inside soften, listening to the heartbeat slow.

Above her, Sandor's rasp lulled her deeper into the calm, "How many did you say there was?"

The woman considered the man's question for some time and a soft smile formed on her lips.

"Eight."

Thanks for reading!

[aslitheryprinx]

Hello again! I have some fake titles if you’re still taking them! A lot of these are inspired by random songs from my playlist -🐭

Moonlight Driver

The Wanderer and the Rogue Planet

Fossilized Return

Power Fracture

Blackwater

Moonlight Driver

Techno thinks he might be a ghost.

He remembers dying, he thinks. And yet, day after day, he wakes up again, in the same place as before.

He died on a night when the moon was hidden, driving the new invention, a car.

He thinks it's been a long time since then; his car is different now. He wishes cars had had such nice lights when he was alive.

Techno has learned to like driving. It's all he can do anymore.

Every night, he takes the same route, down the road, then missing a turn and plummeting straight off a small hill into a river.

He hasn't figured out how to change his path. If he does he might be freed from this exhausting cycle.

His favorite nights are the nights the moon is out.

The Wanderer and the Rogue Planet

Phil is an explorer on a well loved spacecraft.

He's the only person on the ship, which is a bit dangerous, but he's always lived life on the edge.

He ends up exploring an untouched area of the Milky Way galaxy- or rather Galaxy S4 as it's commonly known.

He finds a planet capable of supporting life, including his own while exploring, and can't resist touching down on it's surface.

The strange thing is... The planet is a lot bigger than he was expecting. The trees, assuming that's what they are, are far larger than any trees he's seen on previous planets.

All the animals he sees are massive, and even the grass is far too tall.

And then he sees the aliens- well, really he's the alien here. He sees what he assumes are a sentient species on this planet, and they are massive, a hundred times larger than any other species he's seen before.

For the first time in a long time, Philza is afraid.

Fossilized Return

A team of scientists find a huge deposit of amber fossils. There's creatures in the amber they've never seen before.

The most shocking is what looks like a giant person. They start chipping away at the amber so they can study this incredible discovery.

But as they break away the amber, the giant starts to breathe...

Power Fracture

A long long time ago, there was a powerful god by the name of Dream XD. He was the most powerful of the gods, and if he had chosen to, he could have ruled over them.

Although he never tried to take power, other gods grew fearful and jealous of his power. They banded together to take him out.

A god can't be killed, but they can be brought so low they might as well be. The other gods turned XD to stone, shattering him into dozens of pieces that fell all over the world.

But unknown to them, XD was still awake, and he began to plot a way to return. Mortals found the pieces, and he spoke to them in their dreams, subconsciously directing them to gather to where the largest shard was held.

The mortals gathered together, each guided to the place by something they couldn't quite remember. The place became known as Dream SMP.

Blackwater

Everyone knows the story of the Loch Ness Monster. But only those who live in Blackwater have heard the tale of the creature of the Blackwater Lake.

People talk about it in whispers, as if afraid to speak it too loudly, lest something hear you. They say the monster has teeth like a shark, rows and rows of them, each as sharp as a knife. They say the monster is bigger than Nessy, far bigger, enough that it grows cramped in the lake and will soon make it's way out onto the surface. They say the monster has a magic voice like a siren, that it will lure you in and pull you to the bottom to drown you.

But the truth is... The monster is a shapeshifter. He can look as innocent as a tiny fish or as terrifying as an Eldritch being. And, most terrifying of all, the creature can take a human form.

When he's not lurking in the depths of the lake, he walks among the people of Blackwater. He loves nothing more than to join in on the rumor mills of the Blackwater creature, spinning terrifying tales about himself.

Be careful what you say about the creature of Blackwater Lake. He might be listening.

#mcyt g/t #aslitheryanswers #prinx fake title game

[agentrouka-blog]

Thank you for replying my queries so patiently. I wanted to ask you about Tyrion using wildfire against Stannis army in The Blackwater war and think this is how Aegon felt. Then he thinks that people of KL should be grateful to him because he saved them but they are angry. Do you think it's foreshadowing Dany? Also Tyrion eyes are described by Sansa in ASOS having two color black and green with lust and anger in them. Dany also had two dragons of black and green. LF also had grey green eyes.

Hi there!

Downstream, commoners and highborn captains alike could see the hot green death swirling toward their rafts and carracks and ferries, borne on the current of the Blackwater. The long white oars of the Myrish galleys flashed like the legs of maddened centipedes as they fought to come about, but it was no good. The centipedes had no place to run.

A dozen great fires raged under the city walls, where casks of burning pitch had exploded, but the wildfire reduced them to no more than candles in a burning house, their orange and scarlet pennons fluttering insignificantly against the jade holocaust. The low clouds caught the color of the burning river and roofed the sky in shades of shifting green, eerily beautiful. A terrible beauty. Like dragonfire. Tyrion wondered if Aegon the Conqueror had felt like this as he flew above his Field of Fire. (ACOK, Tyrion XIII)

Tyrion is oddly sympathetic toward Aegon and his fascination with the green flames is indeed similar to Dany at Drogo's funeral pyre.

Interestingly, Dany loves the orange and red and blue flames, while Tyrion finds them insignificant compared to the unnatural green.

Another step, and Dany could feel the heat of the sand on the soles of her feet, even through her sandals. Sweat ran down her thighs and between her breasts and in rivulets over her cheeks, where tears had once run. Ser Jorah was shouting behind her, but he did not matter anymore, only the fire mattered. The flames were so beautiful, the loveliest things she had ever seen, each one a sorcerer robed in yellow and orange and scarlet, swirling long smoky cloaks. She saw crimson firelions and great yellow serpents and unicorns made of pale blue flame; she saw fish and foxes and monsters, wolves and bright birds and flowering trees, each more beautiful than the last. She saw a horse, a great grey stallion limned in smoke, its flowing mane a nimbus of blue flame. Yes, my love, my sun-and-stars, yes, mount now, ride now. (AGOT, Daenerys X)

(Interesting visions in the fire, too.)

Tyrion and Dany both are definitely entranced by the power inherent in the fire. They see beauty where others are horrified, they are attracted to the sheer destructive force.

Using the word "holocaust" here is a deliberate choice by GRRM, invoking the meaning of a sacrifice by fire (as with Dany's pyre), as well as the Shoah, or rather the generalized meaning of a massive scale killing, especially by fire. ("Nuclear holocaust".)

Dany's pyre becomes likened to Tyrion's "jade holocaust" at KL through this word choice, as does the mention of Aegon the Conqueror's Field of Fire (another massive killing by fire) and literal dragonfire. This is one of GRRM's less subtle moves, honestly.

Perhaps the different eye colors and the different flame colors have a similar split meaning. The "natural" fire is insignificant compared to the unnatural "green" vast destruction of what the dragons will be able to accomplish. Drogon's fire is black. Viserion's is golden. Rhaegal's is orange and green.

(Tyrion's eye colors also match the Blacks and Greens of the Dance of Dragons, but that history is not my forte.)

Tyrion's strategy with the fire actually is mirrored by the Night's Watch defending against the South-side attack by the Magnar of Thenn, which also used a fire trap.

Where Tyrion used the Chain to trap the ships on the Blackwater, the Watch lured them onto the great staircase and then lit fires on two platforms above and below.

Up above another fire was blooming. The old wooden steps had drunk up oil like a sponge, and Donal Noye had drenched them from the ninth landing all the way down to the seventh. Jon could only hope that most of their own people had staggered up to safety before Noye threw the torches. The black brothers at least had known the plan, but the villagers had not.

Wind and fire did the rest. All Jon had to do was watch. With flames below and flames above, the wildlings had nowhere to go. Some continued upward, and died. Some went downward, and died. Some stayed where they were. They died as well. Many leapt from the steps before they burned, and died from the fall. Twenty-odd Thenns were still huddled together between the fires when the ice cracked from the heat, and the whole lower third of the stair broke off, along with several tons of ice. That was the last that Jon Snow saw of Styr, the Magnar of Thenn. The Wall defends itself, he thought. (ASOS, Jon VII)

The fire is oil on wood, started with torches, much like Dany's pyre, but it is not a sacrifice, nor is there a sense of beauty or triumph. Jon does not focus on the flames, only on grim death. The people are not centipedes. "The Wall defends itself." It's a cold, numb resignation to carnage.

Jon is not Tyrion, Jon is not Dany.

#anti tyrion lannister #anti daenerys targaryen #anti dragon #jon snow #fire imagery #fire threat #wildfire